


Troll Romance

by w4shingmach1neheart



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Earth C (Homestuck), M/M, Original Character(s), Self-Insert, jake english is hot as fuck idc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-19 03:15:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29744154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/w4shingmach1neheart/pseuds/w4shingmach1neheart
Summary: jake shows up at penzel's door for no fucking reason in the pouring rain its suspicious ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Relationships: Calliope/Roxy Lalonde, Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas, Jake English/Dirk Strider, Jake English/Original Character(s), Jake English/Original Male Character(s), Rose Lalonde/Kanaya Maryam, Terezi Pyrope/Vriska Serket
Kudos: 8





	Troll Romance

**Author's Note:**

> yes this is a self insert. no i have no shame. this takes place on earth c before the epilogues start but after homestuck ends. penzel is my trollsona lol. i don't know if this is going to be a singular oneshot, a collection of oneshots, or an actual full-length fic yet but its probably the first or second. idk.

Your name is Penzel Tinzar, and you have a problem right now. Jake English is standing on your doorstep while the rain pours outside, and you have no idea what to do. Why is he here? Who sent him? You barely ever get visitors, and the last visitor you would expect at your manor is Jake FUCKING English, the human boy you’ve been flushed for for years at this point. He seems nervous, flashing his buck-toothed grin and giving an awkward chuckle every once in a while. You can’t help but stare at him. He is just so beautiful and so oblivious at the same time. It’s only after a few seconds of being mesmerised by him that you realise he’s speaking to you.  
“Penzel! Penzel old chap!!”  
“Wuh…… OH JAKE HEY!!”  
“Oh finally! I thought you were gone there for a second chum! Anyway, I’m here to inquire if I can use your library. I want to read up on troll romance, since so many of my adoring fans are trolls and so many of them would like to be in romance with this fellow right here!” (He points to himself with his right thumb and grins, which is almost unbearably cute for you, but you manage to maintain your neutral expression.)  
You pause quizzically while mulling over what Jake has just said. Does he understand the consequences of being romantically involved with his horrendously large fanbase? Does he know what Dirk, or worse, Jane would say? Jake is known for two things: number one, his gigantic ass, and number two, his incredible stupidity. He never fails to impress you with the latter.  
Nevertheless, his pretty face catches you off guard and you’re staring again. Why are you like this? Why are you always drawn to pretty things like a moth to a flame? The attraction is almost unstoppable.   
On the other hand, this could be a good opportunity to get to know him, and maybe even- no not gonna even get your hopes that high.  
Despite the fact that he could probably just use the public library, you don’t even bring this up, and welcome him to your luxurious home, no questions asked. 

As you are trudging up the stairs to your private library, with Jake trotting placidly behind, you catch glances of him. His eyes are darting from wall to wall, examining the portraits and expensive light fittings. You hope the door to your spare room is not open, as it is filled with Jake English memorabilia and posters.   
“An absolutely spiffing house you have here, Penzel!”  
The sudden speaking after a few minutes of silence makes you jump. You lose your composure and slip, and suddenly you feel your body falling down the extravagant stairs. You grit your teeth, preparing for the impact of the mahogany on your spine, but it never comes. You do, however, feel some shaky arms on your back, supporting you just inches from the stairs. You can smell the faint scent of vanilla and cologne, which is surprisingly a better combination than you thought it would be.   
“Penzel… my arms are about to give way.”  
You instantly jolt upright, face feeling both as hot and green as the Green Sun.   
“Oh… sorry Jake…” You mutter awkwardly. Being in his arms for a moment was nice, you think. You wish it could’ve lasted just a bit longer. He wipes the sweat off his palms on his shorts, which are not exactly the most modest article of clothing. Are you dreaming or is he blushing too? You remove the thought from your head so as to not get your hopes up only to have them let down.

After this minor incident, you both continue up the stairs to the top floor of your manor. You produce the key from the depths of your pocket and insert it in the big, brass lock that keeps the door closed. You twist the key and the door swings open with a loud *clunk*. A spacious round room lined with books from head to toe is revealed. A dome-shaped skylight is bolted into the ceiling.  
“Oh!” Jake almost squeals. “This is perfect!”   
He scurries about the walls, anxiously looking for the section of your library with extensive knowledge on troll romance. You chase after him, trying to show him where the books are to save his own time, but you are too late-  
“EUREKA!” He shouts excitedly after finding a shelf of books with names such as The Quadrants: How to Master Troll Affection and Finding Salvation Through Kismesis. You wonder why he seems so enthusiastic about troll romance. Coming from a troll, it really isn’t that interesting, but to each their own, you guess. 

After he has been reading for a while, his eyes beady and wide, absorbing the knowledge on the pages, he meets your eyes and says:  
"Penzel, you're a troll, correct?"  
You aren't sure if he's asking a serious question or if he's pulling your leg. You look as much like a troll as the next guy. Grey skin, short, pointy horns, sharp, shark-like teeth. You decide that, with Jake's almost charming unintelligence, he probably is being genuine, so you respond with the truth.  
"Uhhhhh. Yes."  
His face lights up, probably at the realisation that he can ask you about troll romance.  
You were right.  
"Penzel, am I correct in saying that the flushed quadrant is the same as regular human romantic endeavours?"  
"Yes."  
"And the only way troll romance is different to human romance is the two extra quadrants?"  
"Yes."  
"Okay. Thankyou for that, it was mighty helpful."  
You expect him to say something else, but he just keeps reading. You're kind of sick of watching him peruse the pages of your extensive library of information on troll romance, so you suggest grabbing him a cup of tea.  
"A cup of tea?" He mutters, stroking his chin. He starts his next sentence with a decisive nod. "That would be jolly good, thankyou chum!"

When you are in your kitchen, lined with cabinets filled with all sorts of crockery, you peek out the window and notice that:  
The sun is setting and  
The rain is not letting up.  
This raises an important question. How is Jake going to get home? Despite being one of the richest people on the planet, he doesn't have a car. Probably because, being a cultural icon, he doesn't even need to leave his house most days, and he lives in the city, so he can get everywhere he needs to by foot. You're assuming he walked all that way to your house, like the idiot he is, before it started raining (You deliberately had your house built away from the city, because it's quiet and you can afford not to have neighbours). Surely he won't walk back in the rain? And it's dangerous for someone as famous as him to be walking alone at night. You could drive him, but you're not sure how you would cope in a car with him for the amount of time it takes to get into the city.   
As you pour the boiling water into the teacup made of fine china, you urge yourself not to worry about it, because he can probably call someone to come pick him up. 

After carrying the tea all the way up the stairs back to the library, you step into the book-filled room and, in the process, walk in on Jake doing, well, you don't really know what. It looks as though he's staring vacantly into space, obviously thinking about something that makes him happy, with the lazy smile on his face. You should bring him the tea, but you also don't want to disturb the silence, the beautiful moment he's having. God, he is just so cute. But he's never going to like you. He's unattainable. Way, way out of your league. But that doesn’t mean you can’t look at him. Or think about him. Or imagine yourself making out with hi-  
“Penzel, my boy, you’ve, er, been standing there for a while.”  
You direct your gaze away from the spot where Jake was sitting before and turn it to where he is now, which is directly in front of you. This isn’t the first time he’s surprised you today, but this time, you manage not to embarrass yourself. You notice that the cup in his hand is almost empty, meaning he’s been standing there for a while while you were thinking about him. Forget what I said before, you did embarrass yourself yet again.   
“Oh! Sorry Jake… I’m so sorry for making you stand there, sit down, sit down.”  
You hastily wave your hands up and down and he makes his way back to, not the chair, but the bearskin rug on the floor. Typical. You bend down and cross your legs on the rug to sit with him. The rain beats on the dome above you. It reminds you of something.  
“Jake” You say. You are almost caught off guard yet again when he lifts his head to meet his gaze with yours. “I don’t want to be nosy or anything but… how are you going to get home?”  
“Oh of course! I thought you might ask about that pal. Let me just dial up old Janey to send a ride over.”  
He reaches into the left pocket of his short shorts, digging for his phone. Then he reaches into the right. Then the back pockets. Then the pockets of his jacket. How many pockets does this guy have?   
He gives a nervous giggle. He doesn’t even have to say anything for you to know what’s wrong. Why did you expect any better from him? You suppose you’ll have to use the house phone to give Jane a call. You propose this idea to him, and he agrees, and you both make your way down the stairs to the old-style house phone which lies on a cabinet in the living room. You’re not that close with Jane, so you don’t have her number in your mobile, but you should have it written somewhere. You begin to rake through the cabinet in search of this “somewhere” and become increasingly more desperate after realising you either haven’t got it written down or you lost the paper. Your stomach does a backflip as you realise what this means: a night with Jake. A night with the hottest boy on Earth C. You are both excited and absolutely mortified, and the dread overshadows the hope. You know what the answer to this question will be, but it’s worth trying anyway, so you frantically turn to Jake and ask it:  
“Jake, do you know Jane’s number?”  
He hesitates, which makes it increasingly obvious that your hypothesis was correct.  
“Hmmm… nope.”  
Just as you thought. You’re grasping straws now, grasping for a single excuse not to spend the night with him.  
“How about Dirk? I have his number.“  
He winces.  
“Well… the thing is… Dirk is with Janey right now, and if Janey were to hear about me acting carelessly without thinking things through again, I would get a ripe yelling at!”  
Again? This feels like a poor, but valid, excuse. You’ve heard all sorts of stories about Jane’s temper. You don’t blame her, to be honest. While you love Jake with all your heart, he is proving to be a hard person to live with. At least he’s honest.  
The next thing you propose is quite a reach.  
“Dave?”  
“Penzel, he, Karkat and Jade never leave their house.”  
You’re shut down, as you expected. You open your mouth to ask about Rose or Kanaya, but you remember that they are always busy for some reason.  
You finally accept this reality. You are going to spend the night with Jake English, in your own house. You have to make dinner for two. You have to clear out a bed for him. You hope your emotions don’t get the better of you tonight. It can’t be that bad, can it?

After clearing out the Jake English-themed things from the spare room, you show Jake to his temporary bed. You tell him to move about the house freely, but despite being offered free reign of your manor, he continues to trot steadily behind you, unwavering. He seems to be quite happy to be spending the night at your house, unlike you. You can’t help but think that maybe he planned for this to happen. Why would he do that?  
You tell Jake to wait in the living room and do as he pleases while you go and plan dinner. While you’re in the kitchen, freaking out this whole situation and figuring out what to do for dinner, you hear the faint blaring of the television next room over. At least he’s entertained. Your own cooking is good enough for you, but will it be good enough for Jake? Living with Jane, he must have quite a refined taste for food, and you don’t want to even think about what he would think of your cooking. You hope he’s ok with pizza.

You make your way over to the living room to inquire about whether Jake is fine with having pizza for dinner, and stop dead in your tracks when you see what he’s watching. You may have rid the spare room of all Jake English themed items, but what you didn’t do is hide the countless tapes of “RUMBLE IN DA PUMPKIN PATCH”. And now, as you are witnessing, Jake has found those tapes, and is watching his own ass jiggling on the screen.  
You can’t blame him for watching his own ass. Even the most heterosexual man and the most homosexual woman would have to admit it’s impressive. But at the same time, not for one second did you estimate that a night with Jake English would estimate to… this. You are frozen with fear, looking for a discreet way to stop Jake from watching himself in a stadium with Dirk Strider shaking his ass. He seems to be having fun, but you have to put an end to this. After what feels like hours of letting your eyes scan the room for a solution, you spot the remote just behind the couch. You tiptoe across the carpet and bend down to pick it up. Unfortunately your knee cracks and Jake jumps and whips his head around to crane his neck over the couch, but before he even realises what you’re doing, you bounce back up, accidentally hit him in the face, and use him clutching his nose and groaning as an opportunity to switch off the TV. After he is finished cradling his face in his hands, he looks at you, bright (but admittedly bleary) eyed. This look tells you he is about to say something about the incident that happened 5 seconds ago, so you give him a stare that says “Don’t even THINK about it” and he obeys, leaving the scene in the abyss of things that are never mentioned. 

After you have both eaten your fill of greasy, delivered-to-your-door pizza, it’s almost time for bed. You both realise that Jake needs pajamas, since you imagine that sleeping in those shorts can’t be comfortable. You lend him a spare pair you have. It’s covered in little sheep. You wait in the hallway while he gets changed, and when he comes out, he says something that just makes you melt.  
“Penzel, these pajamas smell astonishingly like you!”  
You’re a bit concerned as to why he knows what you smell like, but then again, YOU know what HE smells like, so you guess it’s not too far-fetched.  
You respond in the only way you know how.  
“Oh… what do I smell like?”  
This is the best part. The part that almost makes you tear up.  
“I don’t know, but whatever you smell like… by golly it’s good!!”  
You give him your signature toothy grin. And you laugh. You can’t help it. You just feel so comfortable around him. He’s so much more amazing than you ever imagined, so easy to talk to, so… real. A ray of sunshine in your cloudy life. At this point you don’t care if he breaks your heart later on because the way you’re feeling now is the best you’ve felt in a long time.

It is now almost 10 p.m. You are idly scrolling through your phone in the living room, and Jake keeps looking at you longingly from the armchair he’s lying in. He looks as though he’s itching to tell you something, something that he’s desperately holding in. And he’s thinking about it long and hard. After around half an hour of almost unbearable tension in the air, he finally opens his mouth to say something.  
“Er… I’m not very tired… can I do something before bed?”  
Your jaw nearly drops open at this statement, but you maintain your composure.  
“Uhhh… yeah of course! Like what?”  
“Maybe… watch a movie?” He smiles awkwardly, desperate for your validation.  
“Sure! There’s movies down here, and there’s a TV in the spare room. Go fuckin’ ham.”  
His eyebrows droop in disappointment, like he was referencing something and you didn’t get the joke. You’ve noticed that at times, his entire thought process is reflected on his face. This is one of those moments.  
“Penzel… this is awfully embarrassing for me to tell you, but I’m afraid of being alone. Could you… stay down here with me?”  
You know that what’s coming out of his mouth is complete bullshit now. He spent his childhood isolated from humanity, and he’s “afraid of being alone”? What is he getting at? You decide to humour him, even though you had a long day and you’re tired, because what’s the worst that could happen? He’s turned out to be really sweet, despite his eccentric demeanor. Maybe something unexpectedly nice will happen- no.  
You drag your feet over to the cabinet and pick the first movie in the drawer. Any film is a good film to Jake, and it seems that the film you picked out, “Ferris Buellers’ Day Off” is no exception. You’ve never actually seen this movie; you just intended to watch it and didn’t. Jake cheers at the sight of the tape’s cover.   
“Gosh, Penzel, I love that movie! I remember watching it many times over when I was a strapping young boy.”  
You remove the “RUMBLE IN DA PUMPKIN PATCH” tape from the player as quickly as possible so that Jake doesn’t see it and remember the “incident”, and insert “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off”. The movie starts playing.

Some way into the movie, in the part where Matthew Broderick is singing “Twist and Shout” on the carnival float, you begin to notice that Jake is inching closer and closer to your side of the two-seater couch. You found it especially odd from the start that he chose the same two-seater as you despite there being another one in the same room, and his behavioural patterns are now edging suspicious. Finally, after about 10 minutes of both of you catching each other’s eyes and turning away sheepishly, he breaks both the tension and the silence.  
“Penzel.” He whisper-talks.  
You look up from the movie and are met with his face. You notice the way his hair falls in dark, thick tresses across his forehead, and then spikes up at the top of his head.  
“Yes?”  
“Penzel, I-”  
Wait. Is this what you think it is? Is it really happening?  
“I think I-”  
Does he really feel the same way? Is it too good to be true?  
“I need…”  
You almost become anxious waiting for him to spit it out. You shut your eyes in anticipation…  
“A glass of water. I need a glass of water.”  
Disappointed, but not surprised. Again.   
He starts choking like he’s about to die. He could be, for all you know. With a heavy sigh, you get up and power-walk to the kitchen to get some water. When you get back to the living room, Jake is still choking. Is it really that bad? What is he even choking on? I mean, come on, if he was actually in danger, he’d be dead by now. You thrust the water at his face, and he grabs it with great haste, gulping it all down like an animal. When you are both back on the couch, Jake is almost within hugging distance. How did that happen?

By the time the movie is over, it’s past midnight. Jake, surprisingly, hasn’t moved any closer to you, and is sitting bolt upright, stiff and still as a plank, and not making eye contact with you. You, on the other hand, are trying as hard as you can not to fall asleep, for Jake’s sake more than yours. You need to use the bathroom. As you remove yourself from your seat, Jake’s face, while still not making eye contact with you, or even looking at you, exhibits an expression of worry. When you come back, Jake has taken your spot on the couch. That’s what he was trying to do.

You can’t fathom why, but after you take your seat, Jake decides that he will tell you all about his troll romance findings from the library. Kismesis, auspistice, moirails… and matesprits. It is at the point where he starts to talk about the flushed quadrant and matespritship where he begins, yet again, to race his eyes back and forth from you to his lap. And then you hear this sentence for the second time tonight.  
“Penzel.”  
“Yes?”  
“I think I-”  
You’ve already jumped out of your seat. There is a lot of getting up and sitting back down today.  
“Another glass of water? On it.”  
He gives that nervous, buck-toothed grin.  
“No, no. Erm. I’m being serious this time.” He motions for you to sit back down.  
“Penzel, I must declare that I’m not the most well versed in troll romance, even though I studied it for a fair bit today. There’s so much that is all so new to me. So very… interesting. All of it.”  
He is suddenly very interested in the fluffy carpet beneath his feet.  
“But there is one thing I’m about 97% sure of, and it’s that… well… I’m not so sure how to say this, but...”  
If you’ve learnt one thing about Jake English so far, it’s that he cannot, for the life of him, get to the point. I’m sure even the audience is pissed off by now, so you save us all the burden of having to listen to his blather, and finish his sentence.  
“You’re… flushed for me?”  
Your face is practically glowing green. Nevertheless, you still give him a cheeky grin.  
“Well, erm. Yes. That is how I would describe it. But in human terms I would say that…”  
His hand gravitates to yours.  
“I am in love with you, Penzel. I would like to be your boyfriend. Your matesprit, if you will.”  
All you can do in this moment is giggle, and meet Jake’s beautiful brown eyes. He laughs along with you. Thankfully, you don’t need to verbalise how you feel, because you can’t. The only thing you can say is that you are very, very content. Jake English is in love with you. It explains everything. The unannounced arrival at your doorstep, the troll romance research, the choking-on-nothing, even the “RUMBLE IN DA PUMPKIN PATCH” viewing, in a way. It all makes sense, and while there were ups and downs, you enjoyed every minute.  
After embracing the fact that he can look at you fondly without having to conceal his affection anymore, he holds your face in his hands.  
“Penzel, I hope this isn’t too much to ask, but can I… kiss you?”  
You answer with exactly that- a kiss. A surprisingly good one too. Jake English is a good kisser. He collapses onto the couch, laughing, expressing his surprise.

You spent the rest of the night on the couch, in Jake’s arms, listening to the soft sound of his breathing, his chest rising and falling. Nothing in the world, nothing in the entire universe could make you happier. You don’t care what happens next. You just want to savour this moment. And you do. You make it last as long as possible.

**Author's Note:**

> that sure was fun wasn't it. toodaloo or some shit


End file.
